When you live in an area that is overpopulated, with houses one on top of the other, and the air is dirty, you have to savor each and every tree.  Yet as I’ve gotten older, living in the same place my whole life, I’ve found that most people don’t care about the trees.  They cut them down with no remorse; no concern for the air that will be that much more dirty without these natural filtration systems, and without regard to the beauty that is lost.  At the very least, you would think people would miss the privacy that the branches provide when you would otherwise be able to see straight into your neighbors’ windows. 

            There has been a giant pine tree growing in my neighbor’s backyard since I was a child.  There has not been a day in my life that, if I look out the back windows of my house, I wouldn’t see it towering above, with a Mockingbird singing from the tippy-top or squirrels running down its trunk.  When the old woman living there died, I knew the tree’s time was up.  But for about a year, it remained, although I feared still that the day would come when this magnificent tree would be cut down, and I’d be able to wave to my neighbors from the window because there would no longer be long green branches to cover the view. 

            The past few days, the new owners have gutted the house to its bare bones, and today, they began taking down the tree’s branches.  Against my hopes that they were merely trimming it down, I watched them climb higher and higher, undressing the tree of its swaying pine branches until the trunk was bare.  And I ached as I watched, knowing that soon, this symbol of my childhood, this tree that has watched me grow up and has inspired me with its beauty, would soon be gone.  And this small town would look more like a city than a suburb, and the need to flee to the places that remain with trees would be stronger than before. 

            So this small space that I live in has gotten smaller, feels even tighter, and all the animals that called that evergreen home throughout the years and throughout the seasons will be displaced, making it that much harder for them to survive in this already sterile environment of buildings and streets and useless lawns.  The concrete seems to be filling in around me, and I need to run before it covers me.  The tree that seemed to touch the sky, that was so vibrant and alive, is now only in my memories, and I watched it die, empathizing that fear and dread that that being must have felt in its final moments as the ruthless blades cut through its limbs, one by one, until finally its core was sliced.  I can see more of the sky, but there’s less beauty in that when there are no trees against it.
            And the smell of pine fills the air as the branches are put through the grinder… 

- Lisa Selvaggio